Alice Beyond the ShadowDowns
by Faerie-Story
Summary: Alice has walked the mad road of Wonderland, taken her queenship through the looking glass, and now must switch places with her own shadow. *I've re-edited and updated chapter one. R&R if you like nonsense prose.
1. Dawn

Alice Beyond the Shadow-Downs

I. Dawn

Alice made two very important discoveries while stopping to see the dawn from her favorite view on the grassy knoll: the first was that her new floral-green skirt had a knack for hiding grass stains if she slid at just the right angle; the second was that the dawn had been proving to a be a much shier light than usual on this particular morning. "It still must be very offended at me from last week," she pondered, "but you _did_ deserve a good talking to after all," she said loudly to the pale, orange colors that began to peek over the hills. "Yes and I do see you behind there so come out otherwise the world won't be having its breakfast!" She made a point to lay her hands upon her hips the way her mother always did when she was late to afternoon lessons.

"Now I clearly remember telling you last week that you shouldn't shine in my eyes so early in the morning. You know very well that it's the summer and four o'clock in the morning is no time to burn my eyes while you show off for yourself." She paused to read the dawn (she knew its moods through its colors) before she spoke again. "Now getting red and angry won't do you a bit of good! I know some very dark nimmies that would love to cover you right up, and _they_ will listen to me." She had only yesterday learned of the classifications of clouds and weather patterns and had shortened "cumulonimbus" to "nimmies" for ease of learning. In truth, she had come to see the dawn in order to demonstrate her new lessons. There were not a great many others in the world who cared to listen to a little girl rattle off such facts, in which she really knew very little. "Well going back to orange isn't good enough now, you awful Dawn!" she continued with folded arms, "Even the sun must apologize when it's been silly. If you don't I won't be coming back for a whole two weeks to see you! It is already hard enough to avoid that old nurse in order to get out, you know." She began to tap her foot on the grass.

Alice waited ten minutes before the pinks of apologies appeared in gentle waves. "That's a good dawn," she kneeled down and patted the lit grass that began to creep toward her small shoes. "It is a dreadful thing to have to call the nimmies. They talk an awful lot with their pitter-patter of…of…" here she waited for the word, "precipitation! Yes, that's it, Dawn. And they think we girls look better wet than dry, which is impossible to understand so I suppose I should thank you for preferring me dry. And do you know of any thing that looks so delighted to be dripping, Dawn? Because I'm sure you see a great deal farther than I do. No, most things prefer to be dry I'm sure of it, especially the grass. The grass seems so very down on wet days and no matter how much I insist that father should bring them all inside so that they can warm themselves by the fire, he won't listen!"

Alice placed herself down upon the hill and unruffled her skirt so that every printed flower would catch the sunlight. "Between you and me," she began (which was a bit silly to say, for the Dawn could only hear her when she spoke loudly) I think father and the nimmies are on the same side. He must like things very miserable. He's always checking his watch or walking to and fro. There aren't many friends to call on him, Dawn. It's all business, business, business!" she tried to lower her voice to sound like her father.

"But how many blades of grass there must be! So I suppose if you light and dry them all _you_ must have many friends, Dawn. What if _I_ had a friend for every blade of grass?" she began to wonder to herself, "There wouldn't be enough tea to share with them at once, and I would certainly need to sleep at _some _time. Oh, I don't suppose I would be able to give enough time for _all_ of them to be happy would I? Unless they wouldn't want much from me, that is. If they needed just a curtsey and a smile of "how are you today?" I might have enough time to see them all and be back for dinner!" here Alice picked herself up and began to curtsey to every blade of grass that caught her eye.

She went on for almost ten more minutes before her ankles began to waver and her neck grew a bit sore. "Oh it's too much!" she wiped her forehead. "There is such a thing as too many friends after all then! I wonder what my limit of friends would have to be? I would hate to have to tell a new person I met who was very kind to me, 'No, I'm so sorry but I just reached my limit of friendships! If only I had met you last week!' that would be an awful moment wouldn't it? I would need to make a waiting list of sorts! Oh, how do you do it, Dawn? Every blade of grass is so patient with you. Would grass make better friends you think? But I would need to give them all something." She was pleased to find a new opportunity to recite her knowledge. "It's a cycle if I remember correctly: you give them light and the nimmies give them water so they make the air we breathe. But they should need something for us in return. Ah that's it! They need our breath to make more air!" Now very pleased with herself, Alice rolled along the hillside blowing on every patch of dewy green that approached her lips. "Now there's plenty for all!" she patted the grace the same as she patted Dinah back home, "Don't push each other!"

By this time the sun had stepped boldly above the hillside to join his rolling partner in the great nourishing cycle of nature. "Now we have a side of our own don't we, Dawn?" Alice smiled towards the sky. "The dew can come in the mornings and those nimmies can find someone else to be miserable with!" She had raised herself up by now and was facing away from the sun.

"Why there's my shadow today!" Alice waved at her shade that stood along the hillside; it waved back at the same instant. "And I see you're wearing a new dress just like mine as well. Well now, Shadow, can't you do anything novel? But your dress isn't able to be dirtied at all I think, so you've got me there. But I knew you couldn't miss seeing the Dawn with me. You of all people should know that sunrises are better with company. Look, I've made some very nice friends for us today." She picked up a fair amount of grass and threw it about her, watching it dance back to the ground. Her shadow seemed just as excited as she, and soon it stood waiting for Alice's next movement.

"Why you've got some shadow-grass of your own don't you now, Shadow? Well I hope you can breathe because you'll need to give them as much breath as possible to keep them happy. Although I wonder if shadow-grass truly _needs_ anything!" Alice paused to consider what shadow-nature should be like. "Well I suppose animals and people couldn't be that colorful there, no offense to you shadow. I think the fashion would be more about shapes than colors wouldn't you say so?" she twirled enough to let her skirt fluff out and watched her shadow grow wider for only a moment. "And a good point would be that you would never _ever_ get the sun in your eyes!" she nodded assuredly, "That must be nice on the days you want to sleep. But do shadows even sleep?"

Now Alice's curiosity and grown so much so that the matter could not be dropped. She noticed her shadow had placed its hand on its chin in thought. "Are you wondering about me too, Shadow? Well I have just the thing! My old nurse will be having fits if I don't start heading home at the moment, but we'll have a lovely race around the hill beforehand. If I win, you'll have to follow me home. But if you win, you can lead the way. Now Shadow won't this be fun? You'll have to do some stretches first, you know! I _have_ seen a shadow get cramps before."

Alice and her shadow touched their toes a few times before lining up together on the side of the small, grassy hill. "I'm on the outside of the hill on this side," she began explaining to the shade, who was kneeling onto the starting spot, "but you'll be on the outside when we go around, and I'll even let you start a little in front of me because you should know I'm very fast, so it's only perfectly fair. The sun can judge us to make sure no one cheats. Ready, Shadow? One. Two. Three!"

Alice felt as though she had a magnificent start, one of her best in fact, but there was no time to celebrate. Her shadow had kept the lead only barely before they came to the sharp turn. Now the shadow was directly in front, advancing quickly with tall strides. "Now growing taller isn't part of the rules!" she huffed, "the sun will have to give you a penalty!" As they rounded the next turn, Alice found herself on the inside lane of the hill and much ahead of her rival. Soon, she felt well enough ahead to skip a few paces, just to rub it in, before sprinting off over the swaying grass and on to the last key bend. Had they started the race around the corner, Alice was sure she would have won without question. However, as the finish line was a few paces more, the shadow had taken the inside line once again and barely passed Alice before both tumbled over, panting face-down in a bed of grass that Alice knew was only so happy to receive their breath for their natural cycle.

"Racing your shadow should be very good practice," Alice thought between huffs, "but how difficult! I think if I should ever teach children to exercise I would say, 'Now when you can beat your shadow in a race, you're in fit, fit shape!' But you shouldn't race at noon; that would be just too easy. But that's all over now."

By this point Alice had grown tired of her own little game and was up again dusting herself off and checking to make sure none of her colorful patterns were too stained. "Well it's off to home I should think," she sighed and lifted her foot towards the proper direction. That is, she _tried_ to lift her foot to the proper direction; in truth her feet remained fixed on the ground.

"Why hello feet? Have you decided to stop moving today? I wonder if I've pushed you too hard this morning," and Alice thought how long it would take for her legs to feel rested again. She looked to her shadow and found it shaking a rather shaded-finger at her as if she'd done something quite bad. "Oh so you _do_ want to take me somewhere!" Alice asked; her shadow nodded. "Well it isn't too cold where I'm going is it? I haven't brought a coat or gloves." The shadow waved its hands in the negative and seemed to motion as best it could that things were quite warm and comfortable. And before Alice could respond, she found herself falling ever so slowly forward, and the shadow ever so slowly forward. "Ah I see," said Alice, "well if we are switching places, you'll have to do all my lessons for me, so please do well. And don't forget to give poor little Dinah some milk when you walk back inside. She drinks an awful lot too." By now the shadow was well off the ground and had passed through her. Before long she was lying on the ground and growing very dark; the grass seemed very warm on Alice's back before she felt each patch of green gently push itself painlessly through her body and through her arms.

Her lovely green dress had become a dark black, and still flowed in its unique shape. The ruffles of cloth soon disappeared as it dipped below the ground and took the imprint of the waving grass of the hill. She found her arms had done the same but were still very much themselves and very solid. "Why it's as though I've been stamped onto the hillside!" Alice marveled to herself and touched her shadowy cheeks that twisted between her fingers as though she were touching the tips of the grass. She saw that her Shadow-self was doing the same.

"Now if I was on the real-countryside in that world," she looked up to where she had started her fall, "I wonder if the shadow-countryside should be any different." And Alice marched away down the hillsides, her former-shadow (Alice like to call it her "New-self" as it had become very colorful in the real-country) walking above her, with each new tangle of grass tickling her neck, cheeks and arms as though she were exploring a pathless jungle.

Indeed a great many things _felt_ very different to her. She was pleased to find that her feet never lost its footing for they landed exactly in the same spot as her New-self's feet, "so now I never have to make sure where I step I suppose, and that's a nice thing as long as New-self doesn't trip," she thought happily. Her balance was never in any danger as she continually felt as though she were lying down either on her side, back or stomach. It was very similar to the little game she played at home when her nurse would shout, "Alice, my dear! Now you have to get up and come to the drawing room for your change!" and Alice would roll onto the carpet and manage to "walk" on her side from her bed to the drawing room without having to get up; the only difference was that "walking" was much easier here with New-self's feet to use as a stepping stone. "I should have known that shadows are always lying down or leaning on _something_," Alice reasoned. "and walking with the grass on your side is certainly comfortable! I should remember that for my shadow when I go back."

She felt very relieved that she could twist and turn and move her arms left and right, up and down, like any normal person, although she found if she tried to grasp any sticks or twigs from the real-country, her hands grasped their solid shadows, while her former shadow grasped the real twigs.

Another difference that struck Alice immediately after grabbing a particular stick was that shadow-things had a knack for talking quite loudly: "Oh dear! Oh my! Help! Help!" the thing began to shout, "Lost it. Lost! They're gone! What have you done with them?"

"What I have done with what?" Alice stammered, trying to come to grips with both the stick in her hand and the notion that they could talk. It was clearly no use, the stick only wept louder as Alice shook it around the air to dry its tears and then attempted to draw on the ground with it.

"Yes that's it! No, let's try over there! I'm looking for you my little ones!" the stick shouted as it waved through the shadow-grass. "No! We've tried there, go that way!"

Alice felt very unappreciated, "If you won't tell me what we're looking for, I should just snap you and leave!"

"My leaves!" the twig moaned much too loudly.

"You'll have to lose leaves sometime," Alice ventured to say.

"They weren't too loose at _any_ time!" the stick pouted, "I take care of them constantly as I expect you take care of yours. What are you? Your leaves are quite prickly. Fir? Or Pine?"

"Girl hair," Alice responded, "but I don't think they can be leaves at all."

"Of course they are! You're a ginkgo tree of course, although a strange one at that. What kind of tree doesn't know it can be a tree?"

"I don't know," Alice looked on wistfully, very much sorry to have picked up the thing in the first place.

"Well most Irish trees for one," said the twig shortly, "but you have no excuse, my dear. Now help me find those leaves! Or if not, you can share some of yours."

A new thought struck Alice as the twig began to mumble to itself in another frantic search. "Well if her shadow leaves have no colors, then how will she know they're leaves at all?" With this in mind, Alice placed her shadowy hand over the stick just enough for it to see that its slender leaves had once again returned to their proper place. "Now here they are you silly twig!" she chastised, "they were there all along; they just don't droop enough for you to see!"

"Oh my, my! A fair set of leaves they still are!" it praised itself, "I wasn't looking forward to taking yours you know. Ginkgos are too ancient for my liking."

Alice was determined not to go anywhere without at least some measure of gratitude in return: "Well I keep mine and you yours. But before I let you go, you must tell me where a nice place to visit is. I'm very new here and –oh! Oh dear!" Before she could finish, she found that she had raised the stick passed her shoulder and launched the wailing twig far off down the hillside. "Oh dear my New-self must have been done with it and threw it away," Alice reasoned, "Well I've never thrown anyone away in mid-conversation, but I _am_ happy to be free from such a silly search," and Alice picked up her shadow-skirt above her knees before skipping in the opposite direction towards a hill that only continued to grow brighter with the rising sun.


	2. Early Morning

II. Early Morning

Alice walked on her side lightly along the illuminated path, feeling very dusty but quite free with her stainless shadow-skirt. This was a good thing, for Alice discovered very soon that New-self loved to twirl and would do so every few steps while Alice simply found herself rolling once or twice along the road. The first three times she enjoyed, however when twirl number twenty came about she had lost all sense of direction, and by number thirty-two Alice had long since shut her eyes to the flashing change of light and dark. "Well, I don't think she has known what it's like to twirl," Alice said patiently, "and I'm sure if I wasn't allowed to twirl at all I would need to let them all out sooner or later."

After the twirling experiences were done, Alice opened her eyes enough to see a large tree shadow swaying upon the hill-light and growing steadily closer. The path had become flat, but she still found her vision very limited when walking on her side; the ground had covered a great part of her sight, and shadows that she would have recognized easily enough in the Real were not seen until her shady head had already passed over them. This became so frustrating that Alice felt no choice but to trust her New-self completely while she simply looked outward to watch the smaller trees pass her side.

She had just started a game of naming shapes out of the shadows on the higher hill-lights when without warning she felt herself stretching out and vertical as though she had found a wall to lean on. "We must have made it to the tree at last," Alice thought, for her skirt and arms felt like pieces of bark, "Now I should be able to see a great deal better of the country! Oh, well it's just like looking into a lamp shop! Except some of these lamps are much too bright and some much too dark, and I haven't a clue where my look-out hill is! Oh! I suppose New-self needs to take a seat now," and Alice nestled herself on the tree hugging her knees so that she looked like a black, frilly dot with a furry hump.

Her view of the hillside was particularly good; all the things of the Real, with the exception of her New-self, had begun to fade in color completely until they were faint outlines mixing into the light. Uncountable shadows populated the landscape, most being clearly tall plants of some sort bristling in sharp shapes while various other dots fluttered about landing here or there. Alice did not much care for painting as she could never handle her colors correctly, but she felt she could paint her view well enough, "Nurse could make my colors for me, but I'm sure I could paint this view for Dinah," she assured herself, "She would want to see this very much! All I would need are some different yellows for the sky, and you wouldn't need much else for that. Yes, and then some bright golds for the hilltops, some oranges for the outlines of Real things, and then I should cover much of it with blacks for every tiny shadow. But I don't think I have a brush of that size to paint them all." She started involuntarily and stood up, "Oh, it seems New-Self is startled at something!"

Out of her own surprise Alice too jumped when an abrupt knock sounded just above her ear. "Why someone must be trapped inside the tree!" Alice exclaimed and she tried covering the illuminated bark with a very hard smack of her palm. The knocking became louder despite Alice reassurances of, "I'm trying to let you out!" and "Hold on there!" or even "I'm going to find someone to cut through the wood!"

"They can't…hear you…you know," said a voice between knocks.

"Who can't hear me?" Alice asked the voice.

"The shadows, of course, they're well…into the tree…at this point. Off to the Shadow-Downs…no doubt."

Alice leaned her head out past the tree and found that her face had taken on a grassy texture once again while her shadowy legs remained imprinted on the bark. She gazed at the tree's tall shadow waving amidst the patches of light.

"Now, don't try to cover me up!" the voice piped loudly and Alice noticed a small shape flutter about to the opposite side of the shadow-tree, "Honestly, I'm a very good shape to be, and I _like_ being me for the time being."

"I'm very sorry!" Alice stepped back for a moment to make out the small, black form. The shadow was no bigger than the size of her hand and stood along the tree very securely. Alice knelt down to hug her knees once again while the shape went on knocking.

"Hello, bird!" said Alice, hoping for a better conversation than the stick and perhaps a new friend. "That is, you are a bird aren't you?"

The form answered by fluffing out its tiny wings briefly from its shape, "Yes, at the moment."

"Oh you must be a woodpecker!" Alice shouted as if she had finally won a game, "but it hardly looks as if you're pecking at all; I can't see your beak very well. It just looks like you're hitting your head against the shadow."

"Well of course I'm…hitting my head…against the shadow," the bird responded.

"Oh dear! It must be very painful to be a woodpecker then!"

"We have no choice…," the woodpecker sighed after another hit, "you're forced…to be a woodpecker…when you've done….something stupid."

Alice winced as the knocks became harder. She would have gotten up to cradle the poor bird in her arms, except that her New-self seemed more preoccupied with tying grass stems together. "I thought woodpeckers hit their heads on trees to make homes for themselves," she said softly, not wanting to offend her new companion.

"Maybe _real_ woodpeckers do that," the bird huffed, "but when you're…a shadow-woodpecker…you have to get rid…of your idiocy. The Shadow-Downs…always find a way…to get rid of stupidity…one way…or another."

"So you've been sentenced?" Alice asked.

"Two hours…as a woodpecker," the bird stated, "for deeds…of stupidity."

"I think whoever thought of that sentence should be hit on the head himself for such a stupid thought," Alice ventured to say.

"Well he was of course," the woodpecker answered, "and it was such a success….that he became…second to the king."

"I still don't think hitting your head is a good way to lose your stupidity," Alice ventured to say.

"It's the _best_ way," the woodpecker affirmed.

"Well I suppose it's a good way to forget what you'd like to remember, but that's not good at all."

"Unless what you remember…is what you'd like…to forget," the woodpecker stated flatly. Alice had nothing to say to this, for there was very little at this moment in her life that she felt needed to be forgotten.

"When will it end?" she asked after a few more knocks. She was beginning to feel very sorry for the bird and had begun to feel the pain of every hit in her mind. "Is there anything I should be doing to help?"

"Recite a poem or two," the woodpecker offered, "it will help my rhythm." Alice felt glad to be of some use and recalled a very nice poem she had learned the other day. She closed her eyes, swaying with the beats of pain, yet the second she began she felt something was very wrong:

"Who imitates my naughty cores,

Breaking dishes, skipping chores,

And plots with me behind closed doors?

My Shadow.

Who never turns away from food,

My famous cooking of rodents, stewed,

When all my guests have left—so rude!

My Shadow.

Who joins my effort to attack,

A roaring lion to steal its snack,

When my aged mind begins to crack?

My Shadow.

And when from roofs I try to bound,

Who waits for me upon the ground,

To receive my fall with sweet sound?

My Shadow."

"Enough please, that has come out all very wrong," the woodpecker shook its head. "you should be a woodpecker next and get rid of that stupidity." Alice would have liked to have thrown something at the bird but still remained fixed in her spot.

"When _I've_ done something silly," she said, feeling frustrated, "I think it's best to go to your best of friends, not hit your head; best friends should always help you out in some way after all, especially when you've been stupid."

"No, that would be worse," the woodpecker paused to rest, "You should only go to your _good_ friends when you've been just stupid, and only to your _best_ friends when you've been most stupid."

"And so when I am _most_ smart," Alice caught on, "I should go to my _best_ friends?"

"No, you go to your friends when you've been stupid and you're enemies when you've been smart," the woodpecker chastised. "So you should talk to your worst enemy when you're at your smartest."

"Well that's just nonsense!" Alice exclaimed.

"And you talk nonsense only to strangers," the bird finished.

"Well I know who you are _now_," Alice wanted to stamp her shadow-foot, "so you're not a stranger to me anymore and that means enough of nonsense."

"No, you know _what_ I am," the woodpecker began to knock his head again, "not _who_ I am." Alice had nothing to say to this and was silent for a long while.

"And what type…of bird are you?" the woodpecker broke the sound of rhythmic knocks.

"I'm not," _a bird_ Alice was about to say, but she thought that it would make better conversation if she was, "as small as you," she finished, "I'm….a," Alice tried to think when suddenly New-self raised her arm as if reaching to the sky. Alice stuck out her arm above the fluff of her shadowy head and frilly hump, "an ostrich!" Alice stated happily, and she looked very much like a shadowy ostrich indeed. "I'm just resting at the moment. Ostriches can run so fast after all!"

"Ah yes, well I haven't….been one of those….yet," the woodpecker went on. "It would be much…too tiring."

"What do you mean 'yet'?" Alice moved her ostrich-hand about, "Aren't you always a woodpecker whether you like it or not?"

"Well I am now, yes….but not when I get…to the Shadow-downs."

"What were you before?"

"A snake of sorts," the bird answered wistfully, "Dangling from trees…is very good relaxation….so I had hoped…for a thick python…but I found myself…a desert snake. And that's very scorching you know."

"And much too bright I should think," Alice agreed, "what went wrong?"

"The lights were unbearable…too few shadows…a good place to be punished…for rudeness."

"And had you been very rude before you were a snake?"

"I had been…a lion before that…and felt the need…to roar in my partner's ear….without warning."

"Yes that would be very rude," Alice agreed. "And how did you escape the desert?"

"Well I had finally come across…a lone tree to slither up…and I stretched out…past the limbs a bit too far. That's when I was taken by the bird of course….I was much too frightened…to bite it, you know. Being dragged….along scorching sand-lights…is too distracting."

"And how did you get here?"

"I was finally covered…by a very kind tree… and that's when I came to the Shadow-Downs."

"Can you tell me how to get there?" Alice asked eagerly. New-self had now arisen and Alice did not want to go just yet. Leaving the bird to face its sentence alone seemed very wrong.

The woodpecker stopped in amazement, "Any shadows can, of course! You've been very stupid to have been an ostrich all your life! Whenever you find yourself entering or moving onto a shadow, just say the words: 'Shadow-downs far below, this is where it never glows.'"

"Thank you!" Alice wanted to curtsey, "But who will become the shadow for my ostrich?"

"Another one will take your place immediately of course," the woodpecker answered, "there are a great many in the Downs just waiting to be birds."

"What shall I be first?" Alice wondered aloud to herself, thinking of all the animals she had memorized in her science lessons.

The woodpecker thought a bit before continuing his punishment: "Probably whatever…they tell you to be…although if you have the choice…avoid the penguins. You'll most certainly….catch cold on the snow…..and avoid most of the insects…you don't want your shadow to be eaten."

"What happens if I am?" Alice asked curiously.

The woodpecker seemed not to have heard the question. "Pick the bears I think…especially if you want…a good sleep."

"When will you be going back to the Downs?"

"There's one more hour of it," the woodpecker said, "then I should…very much like…to be an otter …always on their backs....very relaxing you know."

Alice found herself moving closer to the tree shadow as New-self began walking again, "Oh, please don't hurt yourself too much! I would hate for you to forget me!"

The woodpecker did not answer but went on knocking his head rhythmically.

"Well I would very much like to see him again," Alice thought to herself as she walked towards the tree-shadow and felt her limbs become like rough bark. "Yes, now it must look like I've passed onto the tree's shadow," she thought to herself and began reciting the words, "Shadow-downs far below, this is where it never glows!"

Immediately the orange outlines and bright colors of the Real became enveloped by the growing shadows of the countryside. All became black to Alice until she felt no sense of direction or space. Her limbs felt like water in the blackness so much so that she could not guess even her own shape. Imagine that you were jumping into a river wearing sleeves much too long and trousers far past your feet and you might have a good sense of the feeling.

"I wonder what I am now!" Alice's voice echoed off the shadows, "I'm certainly me, but I'm not the shape of me. But would I be me at all then? I'm not a girl anymore that's certainly true, but I still _feel_ like a girl. Oh, being a shadow is much too confusing!" and Alice decided not to think more on the subject, for now she felt herself tugged along an invisible current, and many voices she heard in the distance began to grow steadily louder.


	3. Waiting on the ShadowDowns

III. Waiting on the Shadow-Downs

"Now pushing won't do you a bit of good there!" a gruff voice (it sounded like it could have been a bull) shouted over the noisy crowd in which Alice suddenly felt caught in the middle. She could not say she "pushed" anyone given that she could not "feel" another shape in the Downs; later she explained to Dinah that if felt more like "interrupting" someone's thoughts. After a moment, Alice felt that her shadow-"eyes" were adjusting enough to sense the difference between space and shadow. Hundreds of voices all conversed together, some distant, others quite close. "Why it's just as if I was in a concert hall," Alice said to herself, "I can barely hear myself think!"

"I can hear you think quite well," one very close voice said (it sounded like a cat to Alice, although she had not experienced cats speaking often), "although I think there isn't much to listen to."

"I think you're very rude and should have a nice trip to a desert!" Alice huffed back.

"I've already been there once for stealing someone's dessert."

"Oh that's nothing," another voice piped in, "_I_ deserted my pack while hunting for a dessert in the desert."

"You did not," the cat-voice objected, "what animals run in packs in the desert?"

"We were very lost you know," the new voice seemed wounded, "but it wasn't my fault one bit."

"I think it was," the cat declared.

"_I_ think the newcomer should be at the back of the line," a slimy voice croaked (Alice guessed it must have been a shadow-toad before), and all the rest voiced their assent.

Alice felt very confused for there was not a shape, form or line to be seen in the faint, black corridors. "But I'd better try to find the end at least," she thought and she "nudged" her way through the minds of various shadows all conversing impatiently. A typical conversation Alice would intrude upon would run thusly:

"Now step back, sir, you're standing on my eye!" a small voice peeped; Alice called it a mouse.

"I'm not a 'sir'," a whale of a voice boomed, "and you haven't got any eyes here!"

"I do! I only have one, and that's me!" the voice objected.

"Then you should say, 'You're standing on _me_!' shouldn't you?"

"Well I couldn't! You were just standing on the _I_ part of me." By this point Alice would continue to pass them by.

After a great deal more nudging, Alice had given up the search and managed to "squeeze" herself between what she thought to have been a spider (whenever it spoke, Alice felt as though she were being watched from eight different angles) and a howling wolf-voice of sorts.

"I wonder how close we are to the front?" Alice asked to anyone who might hear. "It's not so tiring to stand, but I should hate to have to wait all day!"

"You needn't worry about that. The way I see it, the front will come to you," the spider-voice slurped and then seemed to whisper to itself, "Wait. Wait. Wait. Good things come to those who wait, wait, wait."

"If we are in a line," said Alice, "I would think we would have to go forward at some point. If we stay put we'll never get there at all."

"It's not about getting," the wolf-voice spoke up. "It's about being."

"I've never heard of someone being somewhere without getting there first," Alice replied.

"It's not about hearing," the wolf sighed. "It's about considering."

"But considering such impossible things won't bring us there faster!" Alice exclaimed.

"Oh, of course not! That would be unheard of!" the spider coughed, "Considering won't bring us; it should only better us. _Walking_ may bring us there in the Real, but here _is_ the difference. How do you know you're "walking" at all here? So there will come to us here, fast or slow."

"What will come to us?"

"No, no welcome for us at all. Isn't that a shame?"

Alice was very confused, but didn't know why. "Well the way _I_ see it, I think _we_ will be the ones coming there," she tried proving.

"But how can you know who's making the move?" the spider exclaimed, "You or there? You can't even see yourself! You can only see yourself as coming when you see yourself already there waiting for your arrival. But if you see yourself where you really are, you'll only see there coming closer to you. It's far better to see things here where you are at the moment, you know; it's much more realistic. That's why I chose a spider. Now do stop being so impatient! It could be much worse: you could be trapped out there at nightfall."

The thoughts of the wolf seemed to shiver to Alice. "Yes, I would stay and howl at the moon if I was brave enough," the wolf-voice murmured.

Alice hadn't thought about night until that moment: "I wouldn't think nightfall to be a bad thing," she said, "It would be just like here wouldn't it? Just a great large shadow where we can't see each other."

"There's a difference between shadows and darkness," the wolf howled.

"One does sound scarier than the other," Alice admitted, and she made a note in her mind to never let her shadow see the night once she became a girl again. "Has any shadow ever come back to the Downs after nightfall?" Alice was eager to know.

"Only one, of course!" the spider said, "the Shadow-king. His castle is far past the downs and you won't be visiting him soon."

"Who is the Shadow-king?" Alice asked, "He sounds very terrible."

"Hardly," the spider objected, "his shadow is very tough and won't tear easily. When someone tried he sentenced him to clean the Downs from top to bottom. Nasty business that."

"That's not quite what I meant," Alice sighed. "But how would you ever know if the Downs are clean or dirty at all?"

"He's still cleaning of course," the spider went on. "Trying to tear the shadow-king is a grave offense."

"If trying to tear him is the worst of it, I shouldn't be too worried," Alice thought to herself, "How did he become king?" she asked.

"He's been the shadow for every famous king who's ever lived since the start of it all," the wolf said. "But it's not as tiring as you might think; there just aren't as many kings nowadays, you understand. So he sits on his throne beyond the shadow-downs, waiting."

"Wait, wait, wait," the spider sang in a whisper, "Good things come to those who wait, wait, wait."

"Do you think he's a good king? I would hate to be around him if he's very…very tie-rannic," Alice was not too sure of the word but had heard it spoken in her lessons.

"He was when he was a dinosaur, but those days are gone," the wolf said. "It often depends on who he was last. For instance, he came back one shadow-day and instead of having us all in a line, we stood in a circle. He said it was better that way."

"And another time," the spider broke with quavering voice, "he came back and ordered a hundred of us to march out into the Real during nightfall. They didn't come back either."

"Oh that's awful!" cried Alice.

"It's good leadership," the wolf stated. "He _is_ all famous kings after all. So he knows best."

"He's the _shadow_ of famous kings," Alice wanted to say, but she did not think it very smart to state her opinion to real shadows. "Well what would I have to do to meet him? Is there a shadow-queen around?"

"How do you meet any king?" the spider coughed. "You need a special invitation of course."

"And the Shadow-queen is being a queen's shadow at the moment," the wolf explained. "And it looks like she'll be gone for the longest time at this rate. The king gets very lonely while she's gone, so he sends out plenty of invitations."

"And how does one get invited?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Good things come to those who wait, wait, wait."

"How else will he know you exist if you don't make yourself known?"

"Of course he knows you exist. Even the Shadow-downs is one great shadow you know. And he tells everything to the king," the wolf stated. "Those who come, those who go, how clean he's feeling. Everything!"

"So be careful what you say," the spider said. "You won't get invited to anything if you say something wrong."

"But you won't get invited to anything if you just do nothing," Alice protested.

"Waiting _is_ doing something," the wolf growled, and Alice did not want to argue the point.

"Are we…I mean, is the front close?" she asked innocently.

"Oh it's very close, very close indeed! Recite a poem or two and the front will be at us," the spider said. Alice didn't think that would help at all, but she sensed expectation in their minds and Alice never liked to bring disappoint. She tried to bring her shape into what she thought to be a proper poise, although both her posture and her words seemed very formless.

Tis mad to wake a sleeping bear

When swarms of wild ecstatic bees

File their points and solemnly swear

The soul of him with honey-glee,

Such sweet is tasteful to the lips

Warms the maw we try to wake;

When thoughtless cry disturbs and grips,

The fearsome ursine—grave mistake.

Run ye, whose fearful eyes behold

Whose taste delights in gnawing bone;

Whose claws may rip, whose arms enfold

The raw, the flavorsome, thine own!

But should the morsel take to flight

Kindness returned with sudden feasts

For brunch, lunch, or dinner polite

Cannot be spoilt by "grateful" beasts.

But should you hear the trumpet horns,

The rescue cries, heaven opened

And sun be blotted, sky adorns

Insect hosts from nature tokened,

What, then, can lovely muses say

Of better sounds to greet the ears?

Even mermaids with their singing spray

Shall gladly bow to swarming cheers.

For who can bear the volley-stings

Impaling armor, skin, and fur

What grisly hero's arm shall swing?

No sword. Not bright Excalibur!

"A thousand loves for the rescue!"

The fool to mother nature states,

But should thou also taste anew

Such sweet crimes bring a thousand hates.

"Mercy!" Fool! Linger not to beg!

When swifter mercy comes by flight

Lest poison tips to head or leg

Make you to be a swollen sight.

"That's a great deal different from what I learned," Alice pouted after she finished. "And now I don't know who to pity more, the bear or the person! The bear just felt threatened I think. And the person was just trying to be helpful."

"The bees of course!" said a loud conducting voice; Alice started. "So you want to be a bear is it?" Alice had not noticed that the front had indeed arrived in a small sliver passage of light. She heard a clipboard being flipped and felt what seemed to be a scrutinizing gaze. "Your record is fair enough I see, and you've got the marks. Only small signs of stupidity here or there but very easy to knock out. Alright, step out! The time is 9:23 a.m.!" And before Alice could answer, the light of the passage beckoned her forward. The shadows disappeared into the day and immediately Alice was pleased to recover a sense of shape once again.


End file.
